As It Happens
by animegus farmus
Summary: Whose idea was this anyway?


_Disclaimer: The random thought generator appears to be back online, do you really want to be the one to do it battle? Do not own Tin Man or whatever game it is that involves the cake._

_Author's Note: I had justify the purchase of a keyboard for my ipad and I had this idea pop into my head the other day so, hey, why not? Fortunately brain-brain started to shake itself free of its little game app obsession in time to respond to muse waking up – I really hate having those two out of sync (of course, too in sync never turns out well for me either). Muse, my pretties, muse!_

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DG surveyed the scene before her with a dissatisfied eye. To the outside observer it might appear utterly ideal: crystalline blue sky over the looted remains of a copious picnic basket, gentle breeze rippling the shining waters, the sparkling reflections of the golden suns beaming down so steadily that even the Tin Man had been persuaded to remove his jacket in deference to the heat (what it would take to get him to remove the waistcoat she didn't know, but she was willing to give Glitch's sunseeder another go to find out). All in all, the princess considered, closely inspecting where Cain lay contemplating the waters, it had all the appearance of the perfect date.

But it wasn't; the cake was a lie.

She didn't know what it was, really, but it wasn't a date or a courting or whatever it was that they called it in the O.Z.; it was more of a...of a..._happening_. That's it, a happening, in that someone had _happened_ to mention it was a beautiful day for a picnic, someone else had _happened_ to agree, then somewhere along the line it _happened_ to be decided that a picnic was a good idea, and then a picnic, well, _happened_. Neither of them had actually asked the other along, and now that it had _happened_ DG couldn't really recall whose idea it was to go on a picnic in the first place.

And it would have been perfectly wonderful, too, if it weren't for the fact that absolutely nothing had happened.

The Crown Princess of the O.Z. stifled a huff of utter frustration and sunk her chin into one hand. There'd been a lot of happenings lately and each of them more aggravating than the last in their complete lack of happening. Horseback riding, nature walks, explorations of town, trips to the local festivals or markets...early ducking out of of balls, all of it happening without bloody _happening_. DG'd thought she was going to explode last week when she'd convinced the Tin Man (or he'd decided, she couldn't for the life of her tell which) to teach her how to handle a gun. There they'd been, Cain's arms wrapped around her correcting her stance, her trying desperately trying not to let on that someone had given her the basics in gun safety sometime previously. Said person being held firmly in her thoughts because it was the only thing keeping her from pouncing on the poor, unsuspecting Tin Man because the combination of manly arms and the way he was looking at her...she couldn't even describe the effect _that_ was having on her without ripping out the pages of every bodice ripper she could find.

She could have sworn he was going to say something. There'd been something in his eyes, those piercing, heated, mesmerizing...erm, in his _eyes_ that made her think that maybe, just maybe that he would...that he _might_...

...but nothing _happened_.

And she was pretty sure it was going to happen again, the princess thought bitterly as she caught sight of the Tin Man watching her. Cain turned away almost the moment she noticed, returning to his contemplation of the water for a minute before slowly - almost reluctantly - standing up to begin packing up the remnants of their picnic. It was so odd, DG considered, getting up to help, it was almost as if they were in some sort of holding pattern, but she didn't for the life of her know why. They walked in silence back to the palace, the Tin Man being naturally taciturn and DG being too wrapped up in her perplexed thoughts to manage her usual bright chatter. She was aware of him glancing at her frequently, however, watching her with that deep, considering gaze, that something in his eyes that made her think that...

...but he said nothing. Not even when they were standing just inside the doors of the palace staring at each other so awkwardly that if this _had_ been a date DG would have sworn that this was a so-we-gonna-kiss-or-what moment. But he just stood there, watching, waiting...expectant? Her brows furrowed in puzzlement at that last thought, but before she could consider it Cain's eyes flickered and he ran a hand over his face.

"Well, I'll...see you around," he muttered before turning away in the direction of the kitchens.

But she didn't see him around. Indeed, for a man who'd always happened to be nearby, DG was finding the Tin Man remarkably impossible to locate. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she happened to see him, it was driving her mad.

And she missed her happenings.

"Well what do you expect," Azkadellia stated unsympathetically a few weeks after the disappointingly perfect picnic, "that he would keep hanging around so you could keep leading him on so shamelessly? I mean, Cain's the most steadfast person alive but the man has his pride."

"Yes, but I don't understand...uh, whut?" DG uttered intelligently as the eldest princess' words sunk in.

"Seriously, Deeg," the incensed princess continued, "it's been positively painful watching the poor man practically moving water and light trying to convince you to let him court you, treading the line of tradition so close his feelings couldn't be more plain, only to have you act like _what a nice friendly outing that was_," she added scathingly. "Even when I was the Sorceress I wouldn't have been that cruel to a man like Cain, I would have ripped his heart out and had done with it. Well, okay," Az continued reflectively, "I probably would have put some sort of mechanical heart in its place so that he could _almost_ feel what he used to, but that is not the point!"

"Uh, yeeeeeeeah," the youngest princess floundered, "um, come again?"

The poised and dignified eldest princess of the O.Z. did not explode; she did whatever the polished equivalent of exploding was. "Really DG, how could you not know that as the Crown Princess and Heir to the Throne of the O.Z. it is for you to choose...your...sui...tor," Azkadellia faltered in face of her sisters blank stare, "Oh…_Oh_. Oh, witches," Az exclaimed, "He's, ah, been waiting for _you_ to, what did you call it? Ask _him_ out, since it's traditional for...I supposed someone should have told you that," she added weakly then grimaced, "And since he's taken to avoiding you lately, erm..."

The slamming of the door was her only reply.

The Tin Man, when DG at last ran him to earth, was sitting in an abandoned workshop whittling a wooden figurine out of a piece of oak with the sternest look on his face she'd ever seen. He didn't look up at her approach but she could tell by the stiffening of his shoulders that he knew she was there.

DG considered her words carefully. "I never took you for someone that'd hide before," she mused aloud.

Cain's mouth twitched unhappily. "Been trying to give you space," he said slowly, not looking away from his carving, "been trying to give _myself_ space."

"Mmm," the Crown Princess noted, "mission accomplished then, considering I haven't so much caught a glimpse of you since our picnic."

The Tin Man shrugged uncomfortably. "Thought it would be best," he muttered.

"Mm-_hmmm_," DG hummed, leaning up against a work bench, "What we have here," she stated deliberately, "is a _failure_ to communicate."

Cain's hands paused in their work as at long last he looked at her with that thoughtful, guarded gaze.

"I was raised on the Otherside," she informed him.

Puzzled, he replied, "I know tha..." he cut off abruptly as DG saw the investigative logic begin to go to work in his brain. She knew the exact moment he made the connection, mainly because his hands twitched so violently he accidently decapitated the little figurine he'd been carving. A bit disturbing, that, considering she'd noticed a marked resemblance...

"You were raised on the Otherside," Cain rumbled a bit wonderingly, drawing DG's attention back to him, looking her square in the eye he repeated, "and what we have here is a failure to communicate."

"Yep," DG agreed.

"And how does one _communicate_ on the Otherside?" he inquired, his inquisitive mind already making the next connection.

DG smiled wryly, "Usually the boys start the conversations, or the men."

"And the women?" the Tin Man asked, carefully setting his ruined carving aside.

"They _could_ start the conversation," she admitted, "but they might be hesitant if they aren't accustomed to communicating, or if they happen to be aware that the other party has, uh, past communication issues they might want to, ah, work out," she continued awkwardly, hoping she was managing to keep her metaphor straight.

"I see," Cain commented, standing up slowly, "A failure to communicate," he mused, taking a few steps forward. Then he looked at her with that _look_ in his eyes.

"Erm," DG faltered, feeling more than a little lightheaded as the Tin Man's hands came to rest on the work bench to either side of her, "What are you doing?"

"Starting a conversation," Cain's lips said from a few inches away and closing fast.

DG happened to like that.


End file.
